


Heartstrings

by livinglittlelie



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Coloratura zine, Comedy, Fluff, M/M, Street Performance, keith is the brooding guitar player with a velvet voice, lance plays the ukelele and makes an adorable fool of himself, they compete for the same spot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:47:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27801010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livinglittlelie/pseuds/livinglittlelie
Summary: Lance had to admit that the whole ukulele gig started as an attention catcher, but once he got the hang of it, he found he really liked it. He wanted to play for the world, and what was the first step towards that? Street performance.However, couldn't have guessed that the fight for a spot at Altea Park with the beautiful but brooding guitar player Keith Kogane would be what would tug at his heartstrings.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59





	Heartstrings

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! I know it's been a while since I last posted anything vld, but that doesn't mean I stopped writing! We finally got permission from the coloratura zine to post our babies, so here it is!
> 
> I hope you like it!

Lance had to admit that the whole ukulele gig started as an attention catcher. Ladies—or gentlemen, he wasn’t picky—liked guys that could serenade their love for them, right? And while he felt confident about his singing voice, he felt a bit silly singing  _ a capella _ . He needed some kind of backing, and ukuleles were both quirky and easy to carry around.

However, as he started learning how to play, he found he genuinely liked it. He just needed to strum the strings and his mind was immediately transported to another dimension.

With time, he stopped playing to get someone’s attention, and more for his own enjoyment. He did it in the solace of his room, until his mother kicked him out for playing the same song ten times in a row. Then, he started roaming the streets with his bright blue ukulele case, letting his feet lead him somewhere to sit down and play. It didn’t matter where, as long as he could listen to his music.

After weeks of roaming the streets, he found  _ his place _ ; an old stone bench in the middle of Altea park. Its backrest sported a graffiti lion pouncing to attack, and enough gum stuck underneath that they would soon become one with the stone, but Lance loved it all the same.

Every time he found his spot free, Lance would plop his ass on the bench and whip his ukulele out of its casing. He would sing to himself as he practiced his favorite songs, and he would always jump in surprise whenever he heard soft clapping when he finished a song. Some people even stayed to listen to his next song, no matter how many times he messed up, throwing their spare change into his open case.

He got to play his favorite songs  _ and _ he made some extra cash? That sounded like paradise to him.

There was only one problem to his favorite spot, though, and that problem was named Keith Kogane. Lance could describe him in many colorful ways, but if he had to stick to one, he’d call him an annoying quiznak.

Many things about Keith annoyed Lance, from the ratty red beanie that always covered his ugly mullet and a leather jacket that had seen better days, to the frown permanently etched between his eyebrows. He always carried a red acoustic guitar around, bumping into everyone around him with the case, and played indie songs absolutely No One listened to, but he somehow made them work.

Honestly, Lance wouldn’t have any problem with any of those traits, if it weren’t for Keith crossing a line not many dared to.

Keith took  _ his _ spot at the park. One day, Lance had found him sitting snugly on  _ his _ bench as he strummed his guitar, a small audience around him. And when Lance  _ kindly _ asked him to leave, Keith told him to look for another spot. Can you believe it?! The  _ nerve _ .

And that was how their rivalry for the best spot in Altea Park began. Lance loved seeing the annoyed look on Keith’s face when he claimed his rightful place. But Keith would always strike back, and he’d smirk smugly—looking unfairly attractive, in his opinion—at Lance as he sat down on the bench. That only fanned Lance’s competitiveness, and the cycle would go on.

As time passed, though, Lance felt less annoyed at Keith, instead feeling surprisingly expectant whenever he arrived at Altea. Would Keith be there already, or would it be his time to shine? Would one of them admit they liked each other’s music, or would they continue to deny it?

He didn’t mind listening to Keith play from time to time—not that he’d ever admit it. His frowny face relaxed when he played, and he actually  _ smiled _ when he sang his favourite songs. And Lance knew Keith liked watching him put on a show with his ukulele, dancing around to make the little kids laugh and sing along. He sometimes caught Keith grinning from the corner of his eye, smile immediately dropping when Lance met his gaze.

Neither mentioned it, and Lance doubted they ever would.

So, they kept on with the ruse, loudly complaining about each other while sneaking silent glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking. Both knew perfectly well there was something more than a rivalry between them, but they were very good at ignoring it.

And, if Lance was completely honest, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

But hardly anything remained constant, and feelings were volatile little things. Lance fought with himself every day to find reasons why he should keep up his self-imposed rivalry with Keith. He was happy being frenemies with him, so why should that change? Still, that didn’t stop his treacherous little heart from wanting to earn a smile from Keith.

Lance sighed as he leaned back on his seat, watching the clouds drift by as he whistled to himself. He’d arrived to Altea a bit early, but Keith wasn’t there. Instead of going to his spot, though, he decided to sit on the grass instead.

It was Keith’s turn to play today—not that they kept a specific schedule, but it felt like a Keith day. So there he was, waiting for Keith to arrive so they could fall back into their usual banter. He contemplated taking out his ukulele while he waited, but he decided against it. So, he whistled instead, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the soft breeze.

Some noise nearby startled him, making him jump. He looked around, eyes soon spotting that familiar red beanie and mullet just as Keith sat in their spot. Lance brushed his mused hair and jumped up, and he was about to call Keith’s name when he came to a sudden realization.

Keith wasn’t playing. His guitar was still in its case, resting against his leg, but he made no move to take it out. He just…  _ sat there _ , watching the horizon, hands tucked deep within the pockets of his leather jacket.

Lance raised an eyebrow. What was wrong with him?

“Mullet?”

Keith’s eyes moved to look at him. He threw him a side smirk, but Lance could see how fake it was even at the distance.

“Hey.” He sighed, dropping his fake smile. “Are you going to start with your usual prattle now? Because I’m not in the mood.”

Lance ignored Keith’s remark and sat on the bench beside him. Keith’s eyes widened in surprise, but Lance didn’t comment on it, instead putting his ukulele aside.

“What’s up?” he asked, not looking at Keith.

Keith shrugged and looked up to the sky, watching the clouds drift by. Lance huffed and leaned on the bench’s backrest to look at Keith properly. He crossed his legs and quirked an eyebrow, expectantly.

“So?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing if it’s got you brooding out in the open. So, spill.”

“Why do you care?” Keith frowned.

Lance rolled his eyes. “A guy gets worried about his rival and that’s the thanks I get? I’d be hurt if I didn’t expect anything else from you. For shame, Keith.” Keith’s lips quirked up, and Lance leaned forward in interest. “Was that a smile?”

Keith scowled his features. “It wasn’t.”

“It totally was! Don’t you dare lie to Lancey-Lance. Now, tell me what’s up, or I’ll sing the entire Tangled soundtrack until you surrender.”

“You’re annoying.”

“Yet you’re still sitting beside me, so what does this say about you?”

Keith let out a raspy chuckle. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and he played with his fingerless gloves, lost in thought.

“It’s  _ nothing _ . I… I had a fight with my brother, that’s all.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

Lance exhaled through his nose. He dropped his teasing smile, sitting properly beside him. “I have a lot of siblings, and I know first-hand how hard fighting with them can be. Veronica and I are always arguing for stupid things, but it hurts all the same.”

“Shiro and I aren’t like that.” Keith huffed. “I mean, yeah, we argue from time to time, but we usually make up after we scream at each other. After  _ I _ scream at him, mostly.” His lips quirked up at Lance’s snort of amusement, but soon fell. “But today… I don’t know. It was different. It felt more real, you know?”

“Real, how?”

Keith shrugged. “It was his face, I think. Like I’d really disappointed him this time around. I really messed up.”

“What did you do?”

“… I might’ve borrowed his bike in secret just to crash it against a wall last night.”

Lance couldn’t help it—he burst out laughing. He covered his eyes, feeling his laughter rack his body violently. He couldn’t see Keith like that, but it didn’t take a genius to guess he was glowering at him.

“Quiznak, sorry! I just—I wasn’t expecting that.” Lance lowered his hand, drying off some stray tears falling from his eyes. “I won’t laugh anymore, promise. Are you alright, though?”

“Yeah, I’m perfectly fine, but the bike… the bike’s not.” He licked his lips in nervousness. “The bike’s wrecked, and I doubt we can fix it. Shiro built that bike from scratch, and it meant a lot to him, so when he saw it in pieces… I don’t know. He just had this You’re-better-than-this look all the way back home, and he hasn’t talked to me ever since.”

“Oh, man, don’t I know that look. Veronica always looks at me like I just dribbled on my shirt when I do dumb stuff, but it mostly means that they’re worried. And to be fair, you crashed against a freaking wall. I’d be worried sick if that happened to one of my siblings.” Lance snorted as a thought crossed his mind. “Well, not Marco. I’m used to him pulling off stunts like this. If he ends up in the hospital, he probably deserved it.”

Keith burst out laughing, and Lance found it as beautiful as his singing. Keith threw his head back, his laughter fading out into soft chuckles.

“You’re ridiculous. You barely know me and here we are, babbling about our families. I mean, why am I telling you all of this? It’s not like we’re friends.”

Lance pouted. “Hey! I resent that.”

Keith stared at him, unimpressed. “What, you deny it? Or are you done pretending you hate my guts?”

“Never, Mullet.” Lance grinned, earning a smile from Keith. He leaned back, propping his arms on the backrest. “Really, though, don’t worry about your brother. It’s not something a heartfelt apology can’t fix, although, are you capable of being heartfelt?”

“Ha, ha.”

“Just teasing. But, as a wise man once said, don’t worry and be happy. Or else you’ll die young.” An idea suddenly popped up in his head, and his mouth curled up in a smirk. “You know what…”

“What?”

Lance reached for his ukulele. He strummed the strings to make sure it was properly tuned, and he jumped to seat on the backrest. Keith looked at him questioningly, but before he could ask what Lance was doing, Lance played the first chords of a song.

“ _ Here’s a little song I wrote. You might want to sing it note for note—” _

“Are you serious?” Keith asked, exasperated.

“ _ Don’t worry, be happy _ .” Lance grinned, making a face until Keith laughed. “ _ In every life we have some trouble, but when you worry you make it double. Don't worry, be happy.” _

“Really, Lance?”

In answer, Lance jumped on his feet as he sang the chorus, catching the attention of all the passersby, but he didn’t give a hoot. Keith covered his face in shame, but even Lance could see the smile hidden behind. Loving his improv already, he decided to mess up with the lyrics a bit, just to make Keith laugh.

“ _ You’ve got no cash, you’ve got no style _ —seriously, though, buy a new beanie— _ You’ve got no gal to make you smile. _ Or guy, though I’m doing my best.” He wiggled his eyebrows. Keith finally dropped the hands from his face and barked a laugh. Lance’s grin widened. “ _ 'Cause when you worry your face will frown, and you’ll get wrinkles all the way down. So, don't worry, be happy.” _

Lance stopped singing and extended a hand forward, inviting.

“Come on, Keith, join me! Have a little fun!”

“No.”

“Aw, don’t be a spoilsport!” He looked back to the crowd who had stopped to listen to them. “Guys! Do you think our Keithy boy should join me?”

A resounding “Yes!” was the answer. Keith shook his head in exasperation, but he reached for his acoustic guitar, and Lance raised his fist in triumph. He sang the chorus until Keith joined him, tuning his guitar in a second before joining in. Keith’s baritone voice harmonized perfectly with his, and Lance couldn’t help but jump around in giddiness, adding to his act.

He was having so much fun singing with Keith that he almost didn’t realize they got to the end of the song. As he let his fingers linger on the strings, the small crowd surrounding them burst into applause. He felt a little disoriented, and by how Keith was blinking in surprise, so was he.

Shaking off his bewilderment, Lance bowed theatrically and thanked the crowd. Some people dropped some coins inside their cases, and slowly, the crowd dispersed.

Lance turned to Keith. He hung his ukulele on his shoulder and dug his hands in his pockets, looking at him sheepishly. “Well!”

Keith pressed his lips together, but the corners twitched up. “Yeah?”

“Nothing. Just checking you got the memo, about your bro and all that.”

Keith rolled his eyes, but he was grinning at Lance. “It was hard not to, when you practically organized a flash mob to prove your point.”

“It worked, though, didn’t it? I got you to smile, there.”

Keith dropped his smile instantly, but Lance couldn’t be fooled anymore, not when he knew what that twinkle in his eye meant now.

In a surge of bravery he hadn’t known he had, Lance asked, “Do you want to grab some coffee?”

“Huh?”

Lance rubbed the back of his neck. “You heard me.”

“Why?”

Lance shrugged in answer. It’s not like he had any excuse; he just wanted to spend more time with him. Keith's eyes bored into him for what felt like hours before reaching for his case and putting his guitar inside.

“Where to?”

“Oh!” Lance jumped in surprise. “I… hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

Keith barked a laugh. “You’re a disaster, did you know? Follow me; I know a place you might like.”

Lance grinned and reached for his own case. They left Altea Park together, Lance throwing a glance to the bench over his shoulder. He guessed sharing his favorite things from time to time wasn’t _that_ bad, after all.


End file.
